Voldo and Vercci: Drabble Collection
by N7Valentin
Summary: As the title states, this is a collection of short stories regarding Voldo and Vercci's history together. The stories here cover a rather large breadth of topics, as well as a large time frame, though they will not be in chronological order. Series of Short Stories; No Pairings
1. A Repressed Memory- Vercci's Death

Voldo always hated the Money Pit. Though he never dared to say it aloud, a part of him blamed his master for trapping them there. Years without sunlight, isolated between winding walls of cold, hard stone, the pair, regardless of their wealth, lived on like prisoners.

"D-Did you find it?"

His master's breath smelled of rot and decay, fetid flesh and open sores. Voldo ignored the rancid stench and pressed his ear against his master's chest, listening for the faint murmurs of Vercci's slowing heartbeat. With dread rising in the pit of his stomach, he knew that one of these days, very soon, he would hear that familiar sound for the very last time. He placed another cool, damp cloth over his master's forehead, though he knew that he was only masking the symptoms. No amount of care, love, or dedication could alleviate his scorching fever. Even with that knowledge, Voldo still went through the motions of nursing his master back to health, all in an attempt to distance himself from the fact that Vercci was dying.

If he didn't think about it, if he never spoke of it, then perhaps it wouldn't be true.

With feather light touches, he traced his fingertips along the bulging veins sprawled over his master's hands. The other man grunted in irritation, though he quieted his protests once Voldo slid their hands together, lacing Vercci's fragile, bony fingers between his long, sturdy ones.

"…You didn't answer me. Did you find it?"

This was the man that he loved, reduced to nothing more than a shadow of his former glory. Whereas before, he recited song and poetry, now it always the same accursed thing: the sword, the sword, that _godforsaken _sword.

Voldo wanted to tear off his gag and scream. In his master's last words, he just wanted to hear that he loved him. One last time. Just once.

_Oh Voldo, you were always my favorite. Don't you know how much Master loves you?_

He wanted to carve those words into stone, burn those phrases into his memory. Then and only then would he have the strength to guard the Money Pit for the rest of his life, completely alone, without complaint, all with nothing but his memories to comfort him through the suffocating silence.

With bitterness in his heart, he shook his head- _No, Master. I haven't found the sword. You ask me every day, as if I haven't been looking after you nonstop for the past two weeks._

A torrent of words threatened to spill from beneath his gag. That was why his master silenced him, he always did talk too much, but oh, the things he would say if given the chance.

_Any other man would have abandoned you by now._

_The reason I stay, _

_Master,_

_Is only because I love you._

_Do you understand?_

_I would do anything,endure any punishment, _

_All for one last moment _

_With the man you used to be._

"Voldo, come closer. …I need to tell you something. The s-sword… The Money Pit…"

_No, this is wrong, all wrong. Master, please. This is wrong! For these last moments together, just hold me the way that you used to. Don't you love me? Tell me you do. Tell me I'm yours- that I'm still your servant, your Voldo- that you haven't forgotten me. Talk to me like you used to. Hold my hand and call me precious. Tell me that you love me. __Don't leave me like this, with only your orders for a last memory._

Just one more taste of sweet sentiment.

_I will have to endure the rest of my life in this dungeon, all without you. Do you think I want to? That I'm not afraid? Oh, Master, don't you leave me like this-_

"You're the only one I ever trusted. …I'm counting on you to take care of everything."

With the last of his strength, his master wrapped his trembling arm around his body, pulling him into a weak embrace, meant to comfort him. Voldo felt his master's heartbeat slowing even further as it died into a quiet whisper. This was it. He'd seen enough men die to know the signs of it by now. He kept his movements gentle as he returned the gesture, careful not to squeeze too hard and damage his master's now fragile bones. When the man's breathing finally stopped, however, Voldo hugged him harder- once, then twice, then three times- just waiting for a reaction.

_"Voldo, stop that this instant. You're crushing me."_

_"This is your last warning. Let go now, or I swear on my life, you'll earn yourself a punishment that you will never forget."_

What he would have given just to hear his master say something, anything at all, even if it was a just another threat. Instead, the life silently bled away from that empty body, tearing his master further and further away from him. But it wasn't his master anymore, was it? That body underneath him was nothing more than a lifeless husk of rotting flesh and bone.

Oh, but that body had held his hand through crowded markets when he first lost his vision. Those cracked, fragile hands had dried his tears. Those lips smiled at him with such pride.

In the end, that was what Voldo cherished most about their time together. All the praise, and rewards, and little displays of affection. Master Vercci made him feel good enough.

Voldo nuzzled his cheek against his master's chest, clinging to that lifeless body as the night slowly passed. He should have cried. He should have torn out his gag and screamed, or even cursed the heavens. He should have done something, anything, other than just lie there frozen in horror and grief at the extent of God's cruelty.

How could any father do this to his own children, created in his image?

Voldo could hear the rats clawing at the wooden door, attracted by the scent of his master's decaying body. And it _was_ decaying. After all, it was just a slab of meat despite the love that Voldo still felt for it.

_"I'm counting on you to take care of everything."_

Those last words, no matter how callous, no matter how heart-wrenching, were still his master's. He had to move. He had to get up and bury his master's body. The golden sarcophagus, one of his master's favorite treasures, was only one floor down. It would only take him five minutes to get there. Such an easy task. It was so simple. All Voldo had to do was get up and move. Just move. _Just move!_

The heaviness in his limbs weighed him down against that body that he still held dear. He couldn't bring himself to move. He needed his master- his scent, his touch, his voice-

_"Are you just going to lie there all day? What a lazy servant. Get up."_

The memory was so vivid. He could almost hear that impatient tone. Voldo smiled beneath his gag at the fond recollection.

_…Yes, Master._

Voldo cradled his master's body as he walked through the endless, winding hallways of the Money Pit.

But to Voldo, they were in Venice, safe and sound in his master's villa. His master worked so hard, even staying up past midnight to go over his books. He'd fallen asleep at his desk yet again. Voldo couldn't just leave him there, in his cold, spacious study. He cradled Master Vercci against his chest as he carried him to his bedroom. He was colder than he remembered, and he smelled of rot and decay, but it hardly mattered. This was his master, and he was only sleeping.

If he thought about it long and hard, he could almost convince himself that it was true.


	2. A Vivid Memory- Battle with Yoshimitsu

Strangely enough, Voldo couldn't register the extent of his injuries. Time froze to a standstill as he lowered his trembling hand to the blade protruding from his chest. With an almost childish curiosity, he tapped his fingernails against the tempered steel, stained dark crimson with his blood. The man behind him shoved it in a single inch farther before tugging it out, sending his victim falling to the floor in a blur of gold and violet.

Though he collapsed in less than a second, from Voldo's perspective, it felt like an eternity. The echoing rush of the waterfalls in his master's Money Pit, the overwhelming stench of copper, the weight of Manas &amp; Ayus at his sides- the world never felt so crisp. Dying vibrations of the samurai's footsteps echoed farther and father away from him, running towards his master's golden stature, carved in Vercci's likeness.

_I should chase after him, _Voldo thought to himself, though when he willed his legs to move, he found that his limbs, heavy as lead, ignored his commands. He couldn't even push himself up from the floor.

His entire body trembled. When did it become so cold? Voldo thought about his surroundings for just a moment longer before the sudden pain ripped him roughly out of his reverie. He coughed into his gag, blood tricking from the edges, suffocating him.

With frantic movements unbecoming of him, he dug Manas under the leather strap in his mouth and cut through the gag with uncertain movements,tearing his cheek to shreds in the process. An act of desperation. Instantly, he lurched forward, spitting out an overflowing mouthful of his own blood. Even with his mouth freed, Voldo still struggled for air. Every pained gasp sent him into anothercoughing fit.

It was all too much: the bleeding, the pain, the lack of air. Darkness clouded his vision as blood gushed from his open wound, pulsing faster and faster with every heartbeat. He pressed his hands to the hole in his chest in an attempt to stop the bleeding, though when he realized the fruitlessness of his efforts, he resorted to prayer.

_Our Father_

_Who art in heaven_

_Hallowed be Thy name…_

Shameful tears intermingled with the rapidly growing pool of blood collecting around him. God would forgive him, but would Master Vercci? In the end, that was all Voldo cared about. He failed. He couldn't find the sword, and now he would die, leaving a thief to rampage through his master's precious Money Pit.

No, not like this.

Despite his determination, he could feel his body failing. Every breath was harder than the last. He was so tired. He squeezed his eyes shut beneath his blindfold and wondered just what he would say to his master upon meeting him again in the afterlife.

_I'm sorry- so sorry_

_I tried my best_

_Haven't I proved how much I love you?_

_I do, Master. _

_I love you. _

_…Isn't that enough?_

It wasn't. All Voldo had to offer were empty, pitiful excuses. His Master deserved better. Perhaps God would have mercy on him and smite his soul from existence. Better to die permanently than to go on living in disgrace.

Even so, there was no use worrying about the possibilities. He was dying, and that was that. Voldo repeated that fact to himself over and over and over again, but cold, emotionless logic couldn't stop the tears.

_…Soon, I am going to fall asleep, and when I wake up, I must confront Master with all of my failures._

_It's okay. I'll be brave._

Voldo attempted to calm himself as he slipped closer and closer towards unconsciousness.

_…I'll be brave._

The echoing rush of the waterfalls in his master's Money Pit, the overwhelming stench of copper, the weight of Manas &amp; Ayus at his sides. With a sharp gasp, Voldo jolted awake, clutching at the damp sheets beneath him. When he attempted to sit up, however, the pain in his chest sent him reeling. …So it wasn't a dream after all. With hesitant movements, he prodded at his wound, though he discovered with a combination of relief and horror that it had been already been cauterized.

Was it his master, taking pity on his poor servant and aiding him from beyond the grave? Voldo shook his head with a sad smile. It was a such stupid thought, just like all the others, figments of his imagination and the inner machinations of a man with both far too much and nothing left to lose.

The clatter of gold reverberated from the room adjacent to his. Faint, nonsensical mumbles echoed through the damp air. Voldo couldn't believe it.

…It was that ridiculous flying samurai.

Perhaps he couldn't bring himself to leave a crying man bleeding out in the middle of a lifeless treasure trove. Or perhaps he was merely bored. Either way, it hardly mattered. Voldo seethed as he thought of such a mindless oaf taking pity on him, and worst of all, having the audacity to rob Master Vercci from beyond the grave. Though Voldo lacked the strength to pursue him at the time, he vowed that once he recovered, he would redouble his training efforts and challenge that samurai once more. This was his second chance.

He would recover Master Vercci's treasures, he would find Soul Edge, and when he finally left this mortal world, he would face his Master with pride.


	3. A Dark Memory- Revisiting Vercci

One peek, that was all he needed, and he would gladly return to guarding his master's Money Pit in dutiful solitude. Never again would he protest.

Night after night, he slept by his master's side, just as he did all those years ago, bathed in the warmth light of Venice. Only this time, he never did rest his head in his master's lap. Never pulled the man's arms around his body, feeling the heat of his breath and the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Instead, five inches of solid gold separated them from each other, an impenetrable sarcophagus, meant for the finest of pharaohs. Voldo tapped at the lid with his index finger and wondered if his master could hear him from down, down below.

In fact, Voldo had been wondering about a good many things lately.

How long had his master laid in that glorified box? It felt as though he'd been sleeping for centuries. Regardless of his skepticism, with a kind and loving smile, Voldo pushed the little bowl of candied dates closer to his master's sarcophagus, even though he knew that Vercci never ate. Not anymore.

…At least, not while Voldo was looking.

Every once in a while, he would fall asleep by his master's side, only to find the bowl missing when he awoke. Perhaps it was only the rats, but Voldo liked to think that his master was making progress. That he did, in fact have the energy to eat, every once in a while, and that soon enough, he would burst out of that coffin with that usual spring in his step and start barking out orders left and right, just like he used to. Perhaps he would even take pity on his poor servant and treat him to a nice, long talk. Of course, Voldo never replied, but he always loved the soothing sound of his master's voice, when it was just the two of them, away from the judgmental ears of others. Master always spoke of concepts too advanced for Voldo's understanding- economics, and politics, and foreign tongues. Voldo suspected that his master practiced speaking with him in preparation for future business negotiations. He remembered hearing the man stumble over his words and stutter occasionally at strange pronunciations. Oh, but he loved his master's flaws every bit as much as he loved his perfections. Love still blossomed in his chest at the intimate thought that he was the only one Vercci ever trusted with his weaknesses.

Voldo pressed his cheek against the coffin and playfully inched his fingers closer and closer to the lid. Today, he would finally push it off. One peek. Just one. Oh, he would surely earn himself the punishment of a lifetime for daring to disturb his master's slumber, but in the end, Voldo was a weak man, desperate for affection after all the years of isolation. Even if his master skinned him alive, he wanted to hear his voice. He wanted to breathe in his scent and feel those spindly arms wrap around his body just one more time. He'd almost begun to forget just what his master smelled like. Cloves, sandalwood, and… something else. Something he couldn't quite pinpoint that was inherently "Vercci."

He felt the metal give way as he slowly pushed the lid aside, scraping gold against gold. A cold shiver ran through his spine as odd fragments of memories rushed about in a whirlwind.

_Stop. Turn back._

An insistent little voice scratched at the back of his mind, freezing the blood in his veins.

_Come now, let Master rest. Don't be so selfish. Seeing him now won't do you any good. Just trust me! Hurry up and turn back while you still can!_

With one last push, Voldo shoved the lid aside with a loud crash that echoed through the miles of underground tunnels. An indescribable stench burst forth from the coffin, sending him reeling back in disgust.

…What happened to his master?

His heart sank in his chest as he slowly pulled himself closer, little by little, until his face hovered mere inches above Vercci's. Where was the sandalwood? The cloves and cinnamon? Oh, but Voldo recognized the scent emanating from the sarcophagus below him: death and decay, worms and maggots- along with three little bowls of candied dates, all in various states of decomposition.

Candied dates. …He'd done this before, hadn't he?

Of course he did. Five years ago; that was the last time he felt the need to peek into his master's coffin. The fog lifted and the memories sharpened into focus. He remembered now. His master was dead.

Voldo reached down into the coffin and ran his hands over his Vercci's body, from head to toe. He smiled fondly at the memories, despite the sharp buzzing in his ears and the strange sensation that he was drowning. His master's silly, drooping hat, though worn through with holes, still felt soft to the touch, all velvet and lace. He remembered that his master complained to him once about the growing bald spot on the top of his head.

_"I don't want to end up like you,"_ Vercci had shouted as he tugged his hat over his head, hiding his mark of shame. Despite the rather cruel teasing, Voldo could still hear the fondness in his master's voice.

With silent reverence, he wound a loose strand of his master's hair around his index finger.

Though he'd never been a large man, Vercci's ribs now jutted out from beneath his finery. Like a good servant, Voldo adjusted his clothing to hide the protruding bones as best as he could, before moving down to polish the golden buckles on his master's shoes.

As he always did, he picked up the little bowl of candied dates and placed it next to the others- just in case the Lord, merciful as he supposedly was, ever chose to bless them with a miracle.

He didn't want to think about it.

Instead, Voldo crawled into the coffin and rested his head against his master's chest, just like he did all those years ago. He'd give himself five minutes, he decided.

Just five minutes to cry and mourn his master's death, before sealing the coffin and returning to his duties.


End file.
